The Blackened Sky
by Rock Scorpion
Summary: A short story set between the battle of Serenity Valley and the purchase of the Firefly ship.
1. Chapter 1

**The Blackened Sky**

Chapter One

Mal watched as the retreating Rebel ships floated upwards and away from the smoking carnage of Serenity valley. It was heartbreaking, like watching a lover turn their back and walk out of your life never to return. The Gallant, a heavy-transport troop-vessel from Hillditch Sanctuary, ploddingly cut through the air directly above his head and for an instant the sound of battle was replaced with a rushing tornado of air that threw him sideways. He stared up at the ships white belly and the many small emergency lights that blinked stupidly along its hull and raised one imploring hand to it.

Wait!

Come back!

Don't go!

Don't leave us!

The ship angled sideways with the grace of a glacier and started to climb into the sky. Then, like a firework exploding in reverse, the ship was torn apart as thousands of points of light from the surrounding sky congregated upon its head. A fireball engulfed the front of the escaping ship. Series of explosions erupted along the length of its body, travelling from its head to its massive tail. It began to lurch downwards as its engines spluttered and Mal prayed for escape pods to find the time to launch. Instead, only Alliance fighters reeled through the sky around the falling behemoth, breaking away at the last moment as the broken ship belly-flopped onto one of the mountains that formed the walls of the valley and broke into two sections.

The tail section was torn away from the main body of the ship under the force of gravity and began to roll down the mountain side, bouncing off rocky escarpments and gathering momentum until it finally rolled into and over the fleeing rebel forces below. Their own ships were falling out of the sky to kill them. It was judgement from on high.

Choking smoke was blasted up the valley towards Mal's position and he slipped down behind some cover and put his head in his hands. It was over. They were over. The rebellion had been stopped and the Alliance had won. Anyone who had witnessed what had just happened to the Gallant could not fail to realise that God was on the side of the Alliance. Mal fished his crucifix from within the layers of his clothes and held the small piece of golden metal between his thumb and forefinger. He raised it to his lips and shaking mightily, kissed it and begged God for forgiveness, for mercy, for peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Blackened Sky**

Chapter Two

The camp was gray and cold and wet and ringed in razor wire. They had been there for almost a week, shivering and unfed and seemingly forgotten. Alliance Meks patrolled the outer perimeter. Ragged bodies were hanging from the fences and littered the ground around the edge of the camp. They belonged to people who had tried to escape; prisoners who had tried to climb through the tangle of sharpened metal and been snagged then mercilessly gunned down by the machines and left to freeze.

A sodden snow was falling as Mal and Zoë were led out of their semi-circular hut with nearly a hundred other captives. Zoë was limping and her leg was heavily bandaged with dirty rags. Mal took as much of her weight as he was able and together they made their way under spotlights and gun-muzzles towards an area of additional fencing within the camp. They were corralled like cattle and pushed through a narrow wire-framed corridor in single-file towards a squat concrete building. In front of the building they were commanded to kneel in the mud with their hands behind their heads while the processing took place.

Alliance guards walked between the files of kneeling rebel prisoners dishing out punishments as they saw fit. From behind the building a sweet smoke was rising into the air through a series of chimneys. Mal felt hands on his shoulders and his arms were levered behind his back as he was hauled to his feet.

'We've got a sergeant!' shouted one of the guards to a superior. They were commanded to bring Mal to the front. He could hear Zoë protest and the distinctive discharge of a shock-stick. Mal heard her emit a low grunt before a bag was pulled over his head and he was strapped to gurney and wheeled away.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Blackened Sky**

Chapter Three

Mal was naked and floating in a bath of warm, salty water. He was blindfolded and headphones had been strapped over his ears. If he pulled his limbs in opposite directions he could feel restraints tug at him but when he wasn't moving he could feel nothing at all; just the sensation of the surface tension of the heavily salted water sucking at his skin. He had no idea exactly how long he had been in the sensory-deprivation tank but he guessed that that was part of the torture.

Periodically an electrical discharge would electrify the water and he would scream uncontrollably. Locked in his box with no chance of anyone who cared being able to hear and help the scream was as much a result of desperate fear as the pain. There was no warning when the shock would be administered. It just came, filled his body with a jagged, searing, unnatural pain and was gone. He could hear his hitched breath in his throat, but the sound came to his ears through the flesh of his neck rather than through the air outside his head. It made him sound like a stranger to himself.

Through the earphones strapped to his head an electronic voice spoke to him.

'I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOUR NAME IS. I DO NOT CARE WHAT MANNER OF LIFE YOU HAVE LED. I DO NOT CARE WHAT PAIN YOU EXPERIENCE. YOU ARE A LEADER OF MEN AND I CARE ONLY THAT YOUR WILL IS BROKEN.'

A fresh discharge of electricity penetrated every cell of his body and Mal thrashed; his body became a spasming rictus of agony. The current was switched off and Mal struggled to find his breath. Salt-water had splashed into his mouth and found its way to the back of his throat and he gagged. He felt like he was on the verge of drowning as the electricity came again. He was unable to scream.

'THIS IS FOR THE BEST.'


	4. Chapter 4

**The Blackened Sky**

Chapter Four

Mal could feel the shape of the crucifix in his hand. He had torn it from his own body as the guards undressed him and it was now the centre of his world. He could feel nothing, could see nothing, could sense nothing other than the points of the cross digging into the skin of his palm. Another bolt of electricity came and he clenched his fist as tight as he could and held on. It had become his anchor. It was his faith that everything was in accordance with God's will. If he could just hold on long enough then his belief would be answered. He would find purpose in the middle of this torture. From the fire his love for the creator would rise stronger and purer: If he could just hang on.

'SUBMIT.'

He defecated into the water around him and a prayer froze on his lips. He was seized in time like a statue. Sequences of words that had long ago been committed to memory became involuntary sounds uttered through clenched teeth. He pulled against the restraints and the electricity came again accompanied by the voice; monotonous and detached like a recording.

'I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOU BELIEVE. I ONLY CARE THAT YOU SUBMIT.'

Mal was screaming.

He was praying.

He was screaming.

'PRAYER IS GOOD. PRAYER IS ORDER. PRAY TO ME FOR I AM YOUR GOD.'

Mal held onto the crucifix and increased the strength of his grip. He tried to push the symbol into his flesh. Then it could be a part of him. He would become stronger.

'ONLY GOD CAN MAKE GOOD PEOPLE FEEL BAD. SUBMIT TO ME.'

Blackness swum in and out of his consciousness; Mal could no longer tell what was waking reality and what was dreamed. The voice became everything. It no longer seemed to be composed of words but instead became continuous like the electricity; he could no more distinguish the words than he could feel separate volts of the discharge.

How do you measure pain?

Is it by counting the number of screams?

By measuring the volume of the screams?

Or by looking into a person's soul?

'GOD IS CONTROL FOR CHILDREN. BELIEF IS DESIRABLE. SUBMIT.'

And finally Mal understood. He opened his hand and let the crucifix fall from his grasp.

'Enough,' he said.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Blackened Sky**

Chapter Five

Mal was wheeled from the torture pods to an administration point. The guards positioned his gurney in front of a desk and a man in a smart suit placed a piece of paper in front of him.

'By the commonly accepted tenets of intergalactic law torture is deemed to be an unacceptable means of punishment. The Allied Federation of Core Planets regrets its unlawful actions and wishes to compensate you for your inconvenience sir.'

He did some calculations on a slab while Mal's head rolled from side to side on the gurney and saliva drooled from the corner of his mouth.

'From the time you were cooperating with our operatives we have calculated your compensation to be in excess of three hundred thousand credits. We recommend that you invest your compensation wisely. If you require any financial advice representation can be provided.'

He indicated to one of the guards and Mal felt his thumb being pressed against the slab.

'Thank you sir and welcome to the Alliance. Peace be with you.'

'And with you,' chimed the guards and led Mal back outside to the holding quarters.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Blackened Sky**

Chapter Six

The inquisitor moved between the rows of torture pods their lids open like dark chicks imploring to be fed. He stopped at one as something caught his eye. He pulled on a blue-nitrile sterile glove and reached inside the pod. He picked up a small golden crucifix and stared at it for a long time and considered what had been done here in the name of good.

What he had done here.

Managing to break so many while bringing the whole project in under budget.

He removed the glove and stared at the metal glinting in his black-skinned palm and felt a sudden great sadness that cut him to the core of his soul. He felt pain and guilt and unadulterated self-loathing. What had he done to come to be this man? He had left the teachings of the Great Book behind and his life since then had been one of pain and anguish and fear.

He had wasted his God-given gifts.

What would his dear mother think of him if she could see him now?

The answer to that question was a sensation of unquenchable torture.

The End

_I've tried a different style of writing for this story – pared down and minimal, like bleached bones. I understand it may not be to everybody's taste, or that it may be a complete failure on my part, but any feedback you feel inclined to leave would be appreciated. Thank you. _


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